The Christians Defense Against the Fears of Death, Chapter 2
CHAP. 2.
That in all the Heathens Philoſophy, there is no ſolid or true Comforts againſt the fears and apprehenſions of Death.
THere be certain Phyſitians that ſeem at the firſt diſcourſe to be very well skill'd in their Art, and that talk of the Diſeaſes, and their Cauſes, moſt Learnedly and accutely; and nevertheleſs, in their practice they are both unhappy and ignorant: their unſcaſonable Learning doth diſturb the Patient, … than their Phyſick doth eaſe him; they increaſe … ſufferings of the languiſhing Body, and add affliction to its pangs: Theſe kind of Phyſitians do very well diſcribe unto us, in this particular, the properties of the Heathen Philoſophers, for when they repreſent the calamities of our humane condition, they ſharpen their Wits, and diſcover all their Skill and Rhetorick; …e of them laugh ingeniouſly at our miſeries, others do art ficially weep to behold them; but in all their Writings, and tragick Expreſſions, we cannot find any ſolid and ſincere Comforts, to ſtrengthen us againſt the apprehenſions of Death; therefore their contemptible and vain fancies oblige us to tell them, as Job did to his friends, who did diſquiet inſtead of comforting him, Your remembrances are like unto aſhes, your bodies to bodies of Clay, Job, 13. It is true, ſome of theſe Learned Philoſophers have very well ſpoken, that we begin to dye, aſſoon as we begin to breath, and that our Life is like unto a Candle that lives by its approaches unto death, whereof the Flame doth devour and conſume it; for the natural heat that entertains our life, doth inſenſibly undermine it, for it is that which ſpends our radical moiſture or humidity, that yields the ſame benefits unto our life, as Oyl doth to a Lamp, or Wax to a Taper.
Others have aſwel ſaid, that our preſent life is but a ſwift Race from one Mother to another; they meant from the Womb of our Mothers that brought us into the world, into the womb and boſom of the Earth, that will receive us at laſt; for aſſoon as we are born, we run a ſwift Race towards our Grave: at that inſtant when we fly from death, we do draw inſenſibly towards it, and contrary to any intention, we caſt our ſelves into its Boſom and Arms. Some of the ſame School have compared Man to a bubble upon Water, that riſes and ſwells, and immediately decreaſes and breaks; others make him like to the wateriſh bottles, of divers colours, that Children cauſe with their breath, and deſtroy with the ſame. In truth, all Mans Beauty is but a vain appearance that vaniſhes away in an inſtant; Iſai. 40. All fleſh is like graſs, and all the glory of man like the Flowers of the Field, 1 Pet. 1.
One of theſe great Philoſophers being demanded what the life of man was, anſwered never a word, becauſe ſuch a queſtion deſerved no anſwer, or rather becauſe he would imitate the cuſtom of his Age, of ſpeaking by gueſs, and ſymbolick repreſentations; for that purpoſe he entred into a Chamber, and paſt out of it again at the ſame inſtant. This he did to expreſs unto his Diſciples that queſtioned him; how that Mans Life is but an entrance in, and egreſs out of the World, the one ſucceeds immediately the other.
Another of the ſame Sect walkt in a bravado two or three turns, and then ſhrunk into a Pit, to ſignify, That our Life is but a kind of Maſcarade, a vain appearance that ſoon vaniſhes; when Men have well admired themſelves and their Beauty, and when they have drawn the looks and eſteem of the World, Death ſnatches them away, daſhes out all their Beauty, and ſwallows their borrowed Glory in a mournful Grave. It is with us as with Actors in a Comedy, the one repreſents a King, the other an Emperor, the one a Counſellor, the other a Miniſter of State, but when the Comedy is ended and the Garments changed, you know not which is which; we are like Counters upon a Table, ſome ſignify Unites, others Tens, others Hundreds, and others Thouſands, and Millions, but when they are gathered together, and put again into the Purſe, this vaſt difference appears no more; This is a lively Image of all mankind, for in this life ſome appear upon the Throne, others are ſeated upon a Dunghil, ſome flouriſh in Golden and Silken attire; others are cloathed with nakedneſs; ſome Command as Princes, others ſubmit as Gally-ſlaves; ſome are fed with exquiſite Dainties, others muſt be content with the Bread of affliction: but when Death hath caſt them all into their Graves together, then they appear equal and alike.
All theſe witty expreſſions and others of the like nature, are pleaſant and true, they teach well, and flatter the fancy, but they afford no real Comforts; Therefore to all theſe Learned Doctors, we may ſay as Job by way of reproach to his friends that did add ſorrow to his affliction. You are all Phyſitians of no value, How then comfort ye me in vain? Job 13.9. and 21.34.
When a poor Patient is ſtretched with the Tortures of an unmerciful Gout, or of the Stone in his Kidneys, that forceth from him at every moment, moſt grievous ſighs and groans; If any ſhould offer to paint before him his looks, and grimneſs, or that ſhould counterfeit them ingeniouſly, in his preſence, he would bring him little eaſe to his torments, rather an increaſe to his vexation and trouble: The moſt beautiful Flower alſo can give no delight to ſuch as are rackt in the Executioners hands, or tied to four Horſes, that are ready to tear him in pieces. Thus it is with the moſt eloquent and florid Diſcourſe, it can bring no comfort to a ſoul that is departing. Davids Harp alone can drive away the evil ſpirits, and appeaſe the troubles of a wounded Conſcience.
But ſome may imagine in this general ſurvey of the wiſe Follies and Vanity of the Heathen Philoſophers, I ſhould except the Stoicks; I confeſs that in this particular they expreſs more gravity, but they proceeded no better; nay, when I have well conſidered them, I find them to be far more unſufferable, and more impertinent than the reſt; for beſides that, they treat of the immortality of the ſoul, in a very doubtful and unconſtant manne…, the pretended comforts that they offer, do render Death more dreadful.
They tell us, that Death is the end and center where all humane Afflictions and Miſeries ceaſe, therefore it is rather to be deſired, than avoided or feared. They might have ſome colourable reaſon for this concluſion, if they did but diſcover beyond the Grave, an happineſs which they might here expect and hope for. Death aſſures them of no other comfort, but only to put a period to all the miſeries of this wretched life. Therefore ſuch kind of Diſcourſes are not properly Comforts, and the reſolution that they beget in us, is but a ſilly Paſſion, much like unto a Criminal upon the Rack, who impatiently longs for Death, that he might be delivered from the cruel hands of the Executioners, or who bears the inferior torments with joy, to get on the top of the Scaffold where he is to be broken upon the Wheel; Oh miſerable wretch! the change of Tortures will bring no eaſe to thy Pains, if thou canſt not endure patiently the Ropes that unjoynt thy Members, how wilt thou ſuffer the bar of Iron that ſhall crack all thy bones in pieces. O blind Philoſopher! If thou canſt not bear the miſeries of this life, how wilt thou endure the pains and tortures of Death.
Moreover, they tell us, That the moſt cruel and painful Death is a noble occaſion to exerciſe our vertue, and to cauſe our conſtancy and reſolution to appear with admiration. This diſcourſe ſeems to be plauſible, but in reality it is nothing but wind, for what availeth this apparent vertue, becauſe it doth not ſtop us from falling into the deepeſt Abyſs of Torments and Miſery, but it periſheth, and dies with its Idolaters. Therefore, ſuch as have moſt admired it, have at laſt acknowledged its vanity, witneſs that famous and worthy General, who fancied, that his vertue would procure unto him the Victory over all the Enemies of the Roman Common-wealth, for whoſe ſake he took up Arms; when the Battle was loſt, and all his ambitious hopes had deceived him, being ready to ſtab himſelf with his own ſword; he cryed out, Oh miſerable Vertue what art thou but a vain and an unprofitable word, a name without a body. He did thus exclaim againſt his Vertue that he had formerly adored, becauſe it could yield him no comfort in the day of his diſtreſs, nor free him from falling into utter diſpair.
The moſt ordinary and uſual comforts that they commonly bring, are theſe; That Death is inevitable, that we all enter into the world upon condition to go out; that we have as much cauſe to be afflicted with the day of our Birth, as with the day of our Death; That Humanity and Immortality are not conſiſtant; That Death is a Tribute we all owe to Nature; That the Kings, and greateſt Monarchs are forced to pay it, as well as the meaneſt Subjects; and that this is ſuch an univerſal Law, that it admits of no exception.
But theſe kind of Comforts do but increaſe our trouble, and add to our affliction, I have therefore good reaſon to ſpeak unto theſe grave Philoſophers Job's language to his troubleſome friends, Miſerable Comforters are ye all. For in truth, they don't only ſearch the wound to the quick, without any application of an healing Plaiſter, but they alſo tear and widen it, enflame and render it far more grievous; when we are in hopes of ſeeing an end to our calamities, our ſoul is comforted and armes it ſelf with conſtancy, and a patient reſolution; but when we ſee our ſelves caſt into an Abyſſe of Evil, and that no hopes appear of getting out, we are then overwhelmed with grief and deſpair; It is a lamentable thing to be born to dye, but it is far more lamentable and grievous, to know that Death is not to be avoided; that all the Treaſures of the world cannot free us from it, for his affliction is the greateſt, whoſe miſery can never be cur'd.
This alſo is a falſe and deceitful maxime, That the comfort of the miſerable is to have companions in miſery, although many thouſand drink together of the waters of Marah, they ſeem no leſs bitter; and although thou ſhouldeſt be burnt in a fire where many are conſumed, thou ſhalt not find there a milder and a more eaſy abode. Thy neighbors grief doth not leſſen thy Affliction, their Sickneſs cannot reſtore to thee Health, and their Death comfort thee againſt the approaches of thine own. On the contrary, if thou haſt any ſence of Humanity, thou wilt weep for their Miſery, and thine together: It is that which great Xerxes, King of Perſia, did practice; for when he took a view of his numerous Army, in which there were 1100000 Men, and conſidered, that within one hundred years, ſo many brave Captains and Soldiers would be rotting in their Graves, he was moved with compaſſion and wept. I do not mention here the brutiſh and fooliſh opinion of ſuch as imagine, that Mans Soul is mortal, and dies with our Bodies. This conſideration brings no comfort, but caſts us into an irrecoverable deſpair; for after the torments of Hell fire, there is nothing that can be imagined more dreadful, than a reducement to nothing.
It is needleſs alſo to mention the Philoſophers that are Diſciples of Plato, who have diſcourſed of the Souls Immutability, and of its Bleſſedneſs after this life: they imagine themſelves very acute and ſubtle, but their diſcourſes of this matter, are ſo groſs and extravagant, that inſtead of perſwading the Truth they expreſs it to ſcorn and contempt Let their fond and imaginary deſcriptions of the Elyſian Fields, be witneſſes for whatſoever they have invented of this kind, hath been placed amongſt the Fables and poetical Fictions. Thoſe Chymerical Gardens under ground, contain nothing like to the Divine Excellencies, and unſpeakable pleaſures of the Paradiſe of God.
In one word, ſeek amongſt the rareſt and moſt precious Treaſuries of Wit and Learning, belonging to the Heathen Antiquity; turn over the Writings of the moſt Eloquent Orators, of the Subtleſt Philoſophers, of the moſt famous Poets; examine the Secrets of the moſt expert and experienced Phyſitians, conſider their Practice, and all the Remedies that they preſcribe to the Soul, and you ſhall find them too unskilful to perform the leaſt Cure; They do but charm and divert the Diſeaſe, hardens us againſt the evil; they furniſh us with a good exterior, and teach us to bear a good Meen, but they have no real Antidote againſt the Venome that kills the Principle of Life, nor Remedy that reaches to the Heart. And as the Torrents that dry up in the hotteſt ſeaſons, ſuch Conſolations that flow not from the Fountain of Life, vaniſh away without effect, and dry up to nothing, when a deep ſorrow, fear, and affliction, ſeize upon a ſinful Soul.
It ſeems, the contrivers of the Heathens Religion, were ſenſible of this Truth, for they have dedicated Temples, and erected Altars to all manner of gods, and goddeſſes; not only to Vertues and Health, but alſo to Vices and Diſeaſes, to Fear, Cowardiſe, Anger, the Feavor, the Peſtilence, and an infinite more, but they left Death out of their Devotions. This is an open Declaration, that they knew not how to ſtrike acquaintance with Death, and win its eſteem and favor. They had no Sacrifices nor Incenſe that could allay its fury; they lookt upon it as their moſt inhumane and unreconcileable Enemy. The very name of Death did terrify them, therefore it was one of their moſt unfortunate Omens. Adrian the Emperor is a witneſs of what I ſay; he was one of the greateſt Princes in former Ages, he had made moſt part of the habitable World tremble under his Scepter, and put to death an infinite number of Men; but at laſt he trembled, and was aſtoniſhed himſelf at the approaches of Death; he had overcome the moſt barbarous Nations, and tam'd the moſt ſavage Beaſts; but when he came to this laſt Enemy, he had no weapons fit for the Encounter; therefore in this occaſion he diſcovers the weakneſs and unconſtancy of his Mind, far more diſturb'd, than his Body was with the Diſeaſe. Sometimes he did employ the Magick Art, to retard Death, ſometimes he did make uſe of his Sword and Poiſon, to haſten it, at laſt he kill'd himſelf by an abſtinence from Food, neceſſary to entertain his life. He had conquer'd all the World, and given Peace and Happineſs to his Empire, but he could not overcome himſelf, or appeaſe the troubles of his Conſcience: he was ſo far from ſatisfying the troubleſome thoughts of his Soul, that he ſuffers himſelf to be overwhelmed with deſpair; he flatters his Soul in haſtening its ruine, for when his Diſeaſe did ſuffer him to breath, he talkt unto it in this manner; My little Soul, my deareſt Companion, Thou art now going to wander in obſcure Cold, and ſtrange places; Thou ſhalt never jeſt again according to the wonted cuſtom; thou ſhalt never give me any ſport or pleaſure any more.
But ſome may ſay that Adrian was a powerful Monarch, but no great Philoſopher; that he knew how to Govern, and was well acquainted with the Politicks; but that he was ignorant of the Morals, and had no skill to dye well. To anſwer this Objection, let us give an example of one without exception, who will ſatisfy all Opponents.
Ariſtotle is generally eſteem'd to have been the Subtleſt, and the moſt Learned of the Heathen Antiquity, he was the Prince of all the Philoſophers, the Glory of his Age, and the Founder of his Sect; when his excellent Soul had viewed all things, examined the Heavens, ſearcht among the excellencies of the Earth, pryed into all the Wonders of the World, and found out the rareſt Secrets of Nature; He could never find any ſolid Comforts againſt the apprehenſions of Death. Notwithſtanding all his admirable Subtleties, and his profound Learning, the fears of this cruel Death terrifies his Conſcience in ſuch a manner, that he confeſſed, That of all terrible things, Death was the moſt dreadful.